


Aubade at Midnight

by fakescorpion (SiZodiac)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Free Will, Interspecies Romance, Moral Ambiguity, Other, Purgatory, Stream of Consciousness, Trueform, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/pseuds/fakescorpion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In purgatory, Castiel's trueform is exposed, a naked beauty trapped amongst the beasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aubade at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myxini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/gifts).



> Aubade -noun  
> 1) The sun  
> 2) A song evoking daybreak  
> 3) A song about lovers separating at dawn

 

0.

In purgatory, it is perpetual midnight.

Burning pain is slicing through his body, his flesh is on fire, his blood boils under his skin, and he cannot breathe with his lungs frozen. Soon as it starts the agony ends, and Jimmy opens his eyes, lying in near pitch darkness, the dry leaves covering the forest floor feels wrong. And they crumbled into ash with his touch.

Here, is a plane that is at once physical and ethereal and spiritual.

A soft wind curls around him in a soothing embrace, and Jimmy hugs back, a reflex to hold onto the gentle warmth of the breeze.

Here, Castiel cannot truly hide, dragged out of the protection of his human vessel and exposed for all to see.

And the immense black sky hisses, the leviathans sending out their tendrils of corrupt and death and much glee. Usually, they are sanctioned off to an isolated corner within this first prison of Creation, or the realm will long ago be devoured whole, but exceptions can always be made for those rare visitors.

And here is a naked six-winged beauty, trapped amongst the darkness’ beasts.

 

 

I.

Dean finds them by the riverbed.

Castiel stands, Jimmy stands with him. And Dean pulls them both into a tight embrace, and it feels altogether too much and too little.

The awkward moment stretches from the heartfelt three seconds into painful eternity. Castiel holds their body still, purposefully lax, resigning in sorrow. And Jimmy wants so much to push Dean away.

He can’t.

 

Jimmy asks the angel whether he knows about the escape route for humans stranded in this nightmare, sometime after the reunion, though what he really wants to know is ‘I am human, does it work for me?’

Castiel says nothing.

 

In purgatory, Castiel never once loses sight of Dean.

He keeps staying just a few days away, a silent guardian from afar.

And day by day as Castiel grows weaker, his natural camouflage dims and he glows brighter. Still the enticing seductress as when Jimmy has first laid eyes upon, but now that the circumstances have taken the angel’s lethal sight-searing thorns, unwelcome attentions from many follow their steps.

Jimmy is jealous, just a little. He doesn’t want to share with a crowd, if at all.

And Castiel comforts him with warmth threading down his arm and fingertips, a drop of liquid shine on his dry lips, and gentle gusts that tug at their dirty tan coat. Let them watch from a distance, the angel impassively says, not caring that he is being gaped at by thousands like public porn. But if any comes closer, I will kill.

Because Jimmy agrees to anything his angel tells him now, he nods, obediently lying back against a solid bulk. It is not a rock, regardless of its appearance, for rocks do not exist in this environment. And Jimmy trails his fingers around the lights shimmering on his thigh.

Angels and humans are never compatible, and times like this, Jimmy hates himself for being so corporeal and so physical and so very small. He is like an ant when compared to his angel, whose massive entity easily lights up acres of dark. And as the brightness of celestial intent crawls up his chest and neck and lips, Jimmy opens his mouth, trembling, yearning to taste and kiss his sacramental star.

He never can.

 

 

II.

The embrace is too intimate and too alien.

Dean pulls back, a little, and there is fondness in his hazel green eyes.

And so badly, Jimmy wants to move, to shove the stupid hunter in the right direction, to force the idiot to see the most obvious. Don’t look at me! Jimmy claws at his voice, longing to make a sound, but his words die before they are formed. Please, Dean, look at Castiel! You owe him that much!

The light that carves out a corner of twilight within the endless darkness, for you, the one human that an angel has possibly fallen for. Can you really not see? The brilliance that cuts a path through the eternal purgatory night.

But Dean is already turning away.

He doesn’t see.

 

At many occasions during the journey, Jimmy wants to scream, for he is being kept constantly aware by this hellish realm. But outwardly, there is never a reaction from him, because he is basically an equivalent of a locked-in syndrome patient. Pitiful, one will think.

Castiel says nothing.

 

In purgatory, Castiel always pays attention to Dean.

He cherishes every prayer like lifelines, for they chase away the desolated silence.

Jimmy can see, ever so obvious; and Castiel can, also, for the notion to him have never been foreign. The angel has been in love since his creation.

But this is different, Jimmy tells him, some while ago. Perhaps, Castiel agrees.

Castiel loves God. Not by choice, but because it is his first instinct.  
(He has to believe his Father loves him, too, or he cannot function.)  
(It’s simple.)

Castiel loves Jimmy. Not by choice, but because destiny forces them together.  
(He knows Jimmy loves him, too, because he has personally taken it through coercion.)  
(It’s simple.)

Castiel loves Dean, maybe. And it is by his choice, maybe.  
(He recognizes Dean is never going to love him, in return, for that individual does not exist.)  
(It’s complicated.)

But sadly it matters little, of what they have both observed, because Dean is as ever looking towards the wrong way. The hunter is searching for a man with the cryptic personality of an angel, or an angel with the humane virtues of a man.

There is Castiel and there is Jimmy. And that person Dean maybe loves does not exist.

He never sees.

 

 

III.

The vampire’s eyes wander, looking at the many glimmering sparks on the withered grasslands and the murky waters. Even he can see it, Castiel’s alluring beauty.

So ironic, that the thousands of monsters who have never known and will never know Castiel, their eyes will automatically drawn to the angel’s glamorous splendor; yet the one man who has known, his eyes are too blind to see.

Jimmy can only sigh.

And as Castiel talks, he concentrates on the feel of the angel’s caress on his skin, the lights shining down from between the lush of leaves that kiss his palms and forearms, the rays from the beautiful midnight sun. And Jimmy sees the same small sparks that is dancing up and down the hunter’s firm frame, kissing at his neck and chin and lips.

Please notice him, Dean. Please. Jimmy begs silently and very desperately at the back of his mind, but Castiel is still holding their body stubbornly immobile, and he can no more fidget than throw the dense hunter a punch in the face.

Castiel himself has long since given up.

He can compel Jimmy to give his love, but he can’t do so to Dean. Castiel cannot lay claim to a sword not his, for he is not his big brother… even if sometimes he almost wishes to be.

He isn’t.

 

They have arrived at the cliff side, all shabby but at least whole, and there is the outlet portal, mystical and forbidding and almost taunting. And Jimmy really wants-- _needs_ \-- to know what his angel decides to do.

Castiel says nothing.

 

In purgatory, Castiel still sings.

Jimmy wonders, sometimes, whether he would still love Castiel if his affection wasn’t demanded from him through a never-ending trauma. He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t dare to ask about it because he knows his angel will not lie, and Jimmy is a coward and is so very afraid the answer is ‘no’.

But Jimmy remembers tentatively asking the corresponding matter, when they are by the stream, before losing his nerves again. Castiel? that is what he begins with. If you have a choice before… this love thing… happen between us, do you think you would, you know, still love me?

The angel thinks over it for a long time. And Jimmy panics a little, wondering what he should do if the answer is ‘no’, and panics a little more, wondering what he should do if the answer is ‘yes’.

I don’t… understand, Castiel finally says, almost apologetically. I don’t understand this question.

Jimmy blinks, twice, then so suddenly, the response makes sense. Because everything comes down to this, the elusive ‘free will’ that most people take for granted but angels struggle to comprehend. And at this moment, Jimmy realizes that even as a man who has been striped away every single aspects of freedom as an angelic vessel, he still has more choice than Castiel ever did. He, at least, maintains the ability to question, and the privilege to doubt.

A small frown forms between their brows, with Castiel attempting so hard to force his intrinsic fatalism mind into this hypothetical no-destiny scenario. And suddenly at this very instant, Jimmy is almost positive he’ll fall in love with Castiel, regardless of their situation.

Castiel is not human… even if sometimes it almost seemed like he wishes to be.

He never is.

 

 

00.

In purgatory, it is perpetual midnight, until an angel spread his wings and starts to sing. And a seraph’s cry is powerful and cosmic in purity; the notes of his heavenly farewell song will become the guiding light of dawn in the forever darkness, a sad aubade that will echo for the rest of eternity.

Stay with me, Castiel says, in his real voice. ( _Dean,_ he says, with his borrowed tone.) It is the first time the angel addresses this topic in honesty, and it is a plea. Stay with me. ( _Dean._ ) Stay with me. ( _Go._ ) Stay with me.

Jimmy whispers, okay.

And, simultaneously, they let go of their hand.

 

 

 

 


End file.
